User blog comment:Brigadier Barty/Red Tables/@comment-2246928-20141111003147/@comment-2246928-20141202225442

Laurena listened intently to his reasoning, appreciative of the input of more experienced creatures, and having heard him, she seemed even more vexed than previously. Shaking her head, she placed her back up against the cool stone of the ramparts and closed her eyes. "I bloody hate it when they do that."

A vole on the far left of Birne and the displeased Abbess, distinguishable from the others by the straw hat he had propped up over his leather cap, muttered something to another as he leaned against the ramparts, and his squirrel companion nodded, shooting the Abbess a quick, disdainful look. His paw discretely shifted from his side, resting on the pommel of his glaive.

Despite Sirinius' highest hopes, no arrow was fired. The otter to his right, crouched, the gray sailcloth headband tied about her helmet giving her a rather knavish look, curled her lip in a smile at his impatience. "No need t' taunt th' fates, mucker. There'll be 'ere sometime."